Fatal Diversion (The Keeper's Series #4) - Stephanie St. Klaire Page 0,10

just get in and get the job done, I guess.”

“You guess,” Kroy said as a statement and not a question. It could be read as a statement of agreement or one of question, and it was anyone’s guess. It was imperative they keep him focused on everyone else and not the work of the Keepers.

Kroy leaned back in his chair with one arm crossed over his chest and the other propping his chin with his index finger across his mouth in a questioning manner. He wasn’t sold. Not yet. It was clear in his presence that he didn’t even trust the president’s own brother at this point, and that pleased the Keepers because it meant he was doing his job and further validated the assumption that Kroy was not the threat. Not even close.

“Let’s get into it,” he said.

“Preliminary ballistics tell us that it was not the long gun that came for Ran. No one was probably perched up there at all,” Mercy began. “It was a decoy to throw everyone off and look like a civilian assassination attempt.”

“A civilian with a long gun?” Dillon asked but then quickly caught herself, realizing her questions may give away too much. “I mean, is that a…thing?”

Coy snickered, earning a glare from Ransom, who spoke in her defense as he attempted to explain. “It is a…” He cleared his throat at the risk of sounding as remedial as his sister had despite it being for the sole purpose of covering up her near reveal. “Thing. It’s not exactly the weapon of choice for your average gun enthusiast. It’s more or less something a collector, like an old war veteran or even the more radical prepper would possess. I have one from my days as a sharpshooter, well…the rest is classified.”

Ransom grinned at the puffed chest Coy was tossing his way.

“Oh.” She giggled, which felt a lot like showing her ass at this point because she knew damn well what a long gun was and how to dismantle, build, and use one, for that matter. But here she was, playing the role of a silly helpless girl, and it made her blood boil. “That’s…interesting.”

Ransom placed his arm across her shoulders. “It’s just a really big gun with no purpose other than long-range targets. Pretty much reserved for combat and hostile targets you can’t get close to.” Ransom turned to Coy. “I have one too. Used in combat…war hero.”

Ransom spat his credentials as some sort of warning to Coy, yet another pissing match ensued.

“Is that so, Mr. President?” Coy questioned.

“Definitely so,” Ransom fired back with a wink.

“I knew the war hero thing – saw it on all your commercials. Must not have been classified, so not as big of a deal, I gather.” Coy leaned back and smirked at his newly determined nemesis, glaring at the arm hanging around his sister’s neck.

“Oh, it was a big deal. Big.”

“Huh. Is that even legal to have as a civilian now?” Coy questioned. “I can’t tell you why I have mine because…classified.”

“Right. Classified. You mentioned that Coy boy. But see, I’m the president. I can just change laws and shit, sooo…”

“Yeah. I didn’t vote for you,” Coy deadpanned with a hard I give zero fucks shrug, and Dillon spat the water she was nervously drinking all over the table in front of her and stood.

“Okay,” Dillon said, brushing the droplets of water from her skirt and wiping her chin on the back of her hand. “Um, so that’s great. You both have big guns and did important things. Good for you. Now, let’s get back to whatever…Mercy was…saying.”

Dillon plopped back down in her chair, intentionally inching away from Ransom and challenging Coy with a death stare warning that implied something about a long gun and him being the target if he didn’t knock his shit off.

“Right.” Mercy cleared his throat and eased back into business. “Like I said, long gun. Found. Not used. The amount of damage and what we see on the playback from surrounding surveillance video suggests a different scenario.”

“Which is?” Kroy probed.

“Explosives.” Mercy gritted his teeth at the thought of what they’d just found. The idea that his brother was the target of something heinous was infuriating. Dillon, his sister-like friend, being caught up in it too was just as maddening. They could have been killed.

“The area was swept before our arrival,” Kroy confirmed. “How the hell was that missed?”

“Two reasons. One is that they were micro explosives, which made them hard to detect. Likely